


For Once in My Life

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Compliant, Cohabitation, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: What if April didn't get sick at Boris' party?
Relationships: Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz/Hank Lawson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	For Once in My Life

"How did you get in here?" The supermodel asked in a way that made it very clear while she was curious, she definitely no longer saw him as a romantic prospect.

"My friend is Bavarian royalty." Hank answered facetiously.

She laughed. "This is the Hamptons, Baby. Everybody is royalty."

He needed to get away from the thumping of club music and the hot press of bodies everywhere he looked. A house party was not Hank's scene and he couldn't seem to remember why he'd agreed to it in the first place. At least at first he'd been distracted by the women; some people smoked until they were consumed by calm, some people ate away their feelings, some people shopped until their day felt better-- but Hank had always preferred something a little more… physical. 

That was his original plan: bury the ache with sex and a few glasses of really good red wine. The problem was that no one would let him forget his problems. Prospect after prospect asked about his job (unemployed), his clothing brands (Costco), his jet ownership (none). He wasn't his brother and he certainly wasn't their father so he wasn't going to misrepresent himself. Soon the evening had turned into a warped merry go round of disappointed women and explaining that he was broke again and again until he just couldn't take it anymore.

He just needed somewhere quiet to sit for a minute and finish his drink. He'd empty his glass, wait thirty minutes, then find Evan and leave. Hank looked around. Just ahead there was a slightly opened glass door that seemed like it might lead to a sitting area. Having nothing to lose--on a lot of levels, actually, he noted to himself deprecatingly-- Hank decided to see if his guess was correct.

He stepped into the large room and sighed contentedly as the music was significantly muffled when he pulled the door fully closed behind him. Where was he? There was a scattered assortment of two and three person sitting areas on the right side of the room and a wall of books to the left. Hank curiously glanced through the titles-- Dostoyevsky in Russian, Goethe in German, Ulysses in English-- either the homeowner was brilliant or very considerate of his multinational guests. Hank moved over to one of the sitting areas and dropped into the seat, very careful not to spill a single drop of red wine on the expensive looking upholstery. He'd pissed off enough billionaires so far that year. He literally could not afford another lawyer.

He was less than three months away from not even being able to afford his rent. He took a sip from his glass and tried not to think about it.

"Is this seat taken?" A deep yet surprisingly soft voice asked. Hank looked up.

The man was handsome. Sharp blue eyes stood out from a patrician face with a jaw sculpted by God himself. He wore all black which struck Hank as odd; everyone else at the party was dressed like a peacock showing off their feathers and this guy was trying to impersonate a cater-waiter. It was almost like the man wanted to slink around in the background wholly unnoticed by the crowds. He also looked like the only person having less fun at the party than Hank, which was both strange and really saying something. Nothing added up with the silver-haired man who radiated the kind of old world class and sophistication that spoke to generations of privileged upbringing. 

Ultimately, it all boiled down to: he was interesting, he was good looking, and maybe Hank did have a little flirting left in him after all.

"That seat is not taken, but I should probably warn you my clothes are from Costco, I'm currently unemployed, and I don't own any part of a jet."

He nearly held his breath as he waited for the sting of yet another rejection.

The man smirked. "How refreshing."

"Hank." He said with relief, extending a hand.

"Hank." The man echoed, looking at him amusedly. "Boris. Do you have a full name, Hank?"

"I don't think Boris is a full name, either." He deflected with a suave grin. 

"Boris Alexander Maximilian Lois Ferdinand Friedrich Magnus Küster von Jurgens-Ratenicz, Archduke of Lombardy, Venetia, Tuscany, Dalmatia and Croatia, Duke of Swabia, Count of Szőgyény–Marich. You would be informal about it, too." He finished wryly.

Hank laughed. "If I tell you my last name are you going to steal it and tack it on at the end?"

"Only if I particularly like you." Boris shot back with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

Hank found himself laughing again. He hadn't laughed that much in months. "I'm Doctor Henry Lawson, if we're using titles." 

"A doctor." He sounded pleasantly surprised.

Hank cringed a little. "That tone usually ends with people asking me to check out a suspicious mole."

"Surely they are saying it in jest?" 

The man was definitely too composed and refined to look horrified, so Hank guessed the almost startled look Boris was giving him was probably as close as it got. Hank's glass was filled with wine but something about talking to the nobleman made him feel like he was drinking champagne-- euphoric, like he could feel the lightness and the bubbliness and the easiness coursing through his body.

"Unfortunately, no." He answered, taking a sip from his glass.

Boris looked at him curiously. "You must have stories."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality." His tone was friendly but firm. The man across from him looked strangely pleased at being shot down, which was weird--But so was everything in his life at that point. He decided to roll with it. "What do you do?"

"Banking, primarily." Boris answered offhandedly. "How does a doctor come to be unemployed?"

Hank took another drink from his glass. "According to my former employers I let a hospital benefactor die to save a kid off the streets."

"Fzt-- Bureaucracies." He looked away dismissively. "I find the skilled amongst us are better left to our own devices, yes?"

"You can't run a hospital with one person." Hank answered with a shrug. "Medicine is the ultimate team sport."

Boris gave him another evaluating look. There was something unusually intense about the man, something at odds with how glibly he spoke and how he made Hank feel-- unsettled and put at ease at the same time. 

"I like you, Hank. You're interesting." The man finally replied.

"Coming from the Duke of a long list of places in Europe I'll take that as an impressive compliment." He teased.

"It's certainly not one I give often." Boris agreed. "Shall I refresh your drink?"

Hank looked down at his mostly empty glass. "And risk losing you to the crowd outside? I'll pass."

"I see." 

The man looked at him in a way that didn't make sense. It almost seemed like Boris was pleased to be around someone who liked him, but that couldn't be it because the nobleman was smart and funny and handsome and interesting and who wouldn't enjoy his company, unless--?

What if the man's entire life was like Hank's last few hours? Person after person more interested in extreme social climbing than him in particular. The titles, the wealth, the looks. Boris had to have been a target most of his life. What would it feel like to have almost every person he came into contact with want something from him: money, a business deal, a favor. 

Maybe that was why the man was trying to hide in the shadows. Maybe that explained a lot of things from the long looks to the gently probing questions to the glib mask hiding what Hank suspected was an intense personality.

He went a step further. "I'm enjoying our… intimate tête-à-tête."

Boris lifted an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Mmhmm." He agreed languidly. "So, is this where I ask my place or yours?"

"Perhaps you would like to tour a bedroom?" The nobleman asked nonchalantly.

Hank tilted his head. "You don't strike me as a 'casual encounters at a party' kind of guy."

"Is that a no?" The man clarified almost primly.

"Not at all. I'm just surprised." 

"You are exceptional, and so I will make an exception for you." Boris responded simply.

"You sure our host won't mind if we defile one of their bedrooms?" Hank flirted. He was absolutely shameless, but there was no harm in throwing caution to the wind every now and then.

"I believe the estate's owner would be honored." Boris returned.

"You're the owner." He laughed. "I realized it when you said your full name. Russian first name, German last name. Just like the books on the bookshelf over there."

Boris smirked. "At long last I have been caught, Mr Lawson."

"Hank." He corrected, putting a hand on the other man's knee.

"H-Hank."

He arched an eyebrow. "Cat got your tongue?"

"You are very forthright."

"Should I stop?" He teased, letting his fingers inch up the other man's leg.

"I would greatly prefer it if you didn't." Boris murmured, suddenly looking serious.

"That makes two of us, then." 

Hank closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together softly. It was a nice, slow, sultry kiss that sent tendrils of pleasure unfurling through his veins. Boris, he suspected, was the kind of man that knew how to make his partner slow burn from the inside out and desire surged through him at the thought. He couldn't help but wonder, though...

"What do you mean, 'at long last I've been caught'?" Hank breathed as their lips parted.

Boris' heated gaze swept over him. "Tell me, did you notice anything unusual this evening, Hank?"

He thought back. Everything felt weird and had for a while, but--

"Your security team knew Evan and I weren't who he said we were, but they let us in anyway." He paused for confirmation but the man's expression gave nothing away. "It looked like they were about to send us away when one of them got a transmission through their earpiece and let us in--you had something to do with that."

"Who's to say, really." The man deflected.

"Three of the women I talked to asked me almost identical questions. I don't know why I didn't think of it then; they were part of your security team, weren't they?" 

A slow smirk spread across Boris' handsome face. "Perhaps."

There was something else, something he was missing. 

"Each woman brought me closer to this room. You led me here-- Why go through all of that for a chance at a hookup?" Hank found himself asking.

Boris tilted his head very slightly. "You do not seek anything from me more than companionship, even now that you know who I am?"

"Of course not."

"Regrettably, not everyone is like you, Hank." 

His tone shared more than his words. It spoke to forty years of lived experience and suddenly Hank couldn't help but feel like he was getting way more intimacy than he'd signed on for.

He liked it, though.

One of the major reasons Hank had become a doctor in the first place was because of how much he liked connecting with people. He genuinely enjoyed meeting new people and romantic situations were even better because he didn't have to fumble his way through attempting friendship. With a romantic relationship there was a goal at the end, there were clear parameters, and there was a basic understanding of what they wanted from one another. 

Paradoxically, making friends was another story. He loved the thrill of a new relationship with all its endless possibilities but for some reason he struggled to deepen friendships. While everyone else made friends in highschool and college Hank was taking care of his mother then becoming a doctor. He'd always assumed having friends would be easy and he could do it anytime, but the older he got the more wrong he'd turned out to be.

At some point he just accepted his patients and coworkers were all he needed for companionship and his romantic interests? They filled that hollow place in his chest just fine. So that's why he was so interested in Boris' lived experiences, he reasoned with himself. It was just that he just couldn't turn off how much he cared, not even for a hookup that was all but guaranteed to end with the night. 

He didn't want to get too attached. He knew he was guilty of hearing hoofbeats and thinking soulmate. So before he could let himself get too emotionally invested with Boris' life-- Hank decided the best thing to do was kiss Boris again.

And again.

And again. 

He kept kissing the man until they were both breathless and desperate and wanting and Boris gently took his hand and led him from the room.

Hank didn't pay particularly close attention to their journey from the sitting room to Boris' bedroom. Instead he enjoyed the man's seductively heady cologne and how those fingers felt intertwined with his own as they rushed like young lovers towards a bedroom. There was a small quirk of a smile on the man's lips and Hank was considering the merits of kissing him again right there in the hallway when Boris suddenly stopped and opened a door to their right.

The suite was absolutely palatial, dimly lit by recessed lighting in some beautifully carved cornices. Hank stopped walking for a second, surprised that it was the man's actual bedroom-- Not just any old room in the mansion with a bed.

"It is very ornate." Boris murmured against his ear, mistaking the cause of his surprise.

"It's not that, I didn't even notice your decor. I'm just surprised you brought me to your actual bedroom." Hank answered. "For a guy who had his elite security taskforce interview me three times before you even said hi-- this feels like a huge amount of trust."

The nobleman lightly touched his cheek. "I am judicious about risk-taking, not adverse to it."

"I'm not a mutual fund." Hank murmured as Boris pulled him closer.

"You must certainly are not." The nobleman agreed.

Then their lips met again.

-*-

"Where are you staying, Hank?" Boris asked as they laid together in the afterglow.

"Hm? Oh, some theme park in Worsthampton." He answered less derisively than he would have even an hour ago too. "But my brother asked me to come, and the last few hours with you have actually made me very glad I did."

"Me as well." Boris agreed, still slightly flushed and clearly relaxed. "Come stay in my guest house. For the summer."

It was a surprisingly tempting invitation. An entire summer-- He could sublet his apartment and save some money, go for runs on the white sands at the edge of the property, have great sex with the estate owner whenever either of them felt so inclined. The only problem was that it was too good to be true, and Hank had learned the dangers of that a very long time ago. 

"Thanks, but I'm only here for the weekend." He demurred. "If I weren't, though."

He left his statement open ended as he pressed his lips against the back of the nobleman's hand.

"Well. If you change your mind." Boris answered pleasantly. 

Maybe Hank was imagining things, he didn't know Boris well, but he swore he could hear something suspicious in the man's offhand comment. A small part of him wanted to clarify things but a much larger part felt like he was floating on a luxurious cloud and every muscle in his body was completely at ease while Boris' heartbeat thumped steadily in his ear. Instead of asking any questions he tossed an arm around the man's waist and drifted off to the best sleep he'd had in years. 

The next morning Hank awoke still naked and tangled in heavy silk sheets while his phone rang shrilly on the bedside table. That was weird-- Hadn't his cell been in his pocket on the floor?

"This is Hank." He answered. He didn't recognize the number on the screen.

"There's been an accident. I need your help." A young male voice said from the other side of the line.

"Okay," Hank started as his brain instinctively shifted into crisis management. "I need you to hang up and call 911."

"Aren't you a doctor?" The voice questioned.

"I am, but--"

"I'll text you the address." The line disconnected.

What was going on? 

As he tugged on his pants from the night before his fingers brushed against a piece of paper in one of the pockets. Huh-- He definitely hadn't put that in there. Pulling it out Hank realized it was a note written in beautiful, practiced cursive:

If you change your mind, my offer stands indefinitely -Boris

He didn't think much of the nobleman's indecent proposal as he tried to find his way from Boris' bedroom to Shadow Pond's front door as quickly as he could while running into as few people as possible. He didn't think about the offer while he met the precocious teenagers, reassured Libby that the only thing she had was cyberchondria, and saved Tucker's life with some tubing and a plastic bag. He still didn't think much about it when a woman named Divya showed up at the hotel with a meticulous and well thought out business plan.

Then his phone rang again with another new patient in crisis and suddenly he just knew-- Boris.

He still didn't have time to really think about the implications because for the second time that day he found himself rushing to an emergency, this time that turned out to be in a hospital of all places. Then as he profusely apologized for the toes-stepping to a pretty, usually-his-type hospital administrator named Jill Casey, she stopped him. She was thrilled to get New Parts Newberg out of her ER. He'd be doing her a favor!-- and that was how Hank finally and very reluctantly accepted his second new patient of the day. Jill invited him to dinner and afterwards he watched the sunset over the beach while he looked at Boris' note again and again.

If you change your mind, my offer stands indefinitely -Boris

He recalled those long-fingered hands moving over his body and shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cool ocean water splashing on his khakis. He wanted... No, he needed to know more about the man before he could even begin to consider staying and certainly before he found himself entangled body or soul with Boris Küster von Jurgens-Ratenicz again-- He had to know exactly who he was dealing with and why the man had taken such great lengths to get him to spend a summer with him. There had to be a reason. 

That night he laid in bed tossing and turning. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Boris. Frustrated, he grabbed his cellphone off the bedside table and absently checked his text messages-- Still no word from anyone in Manhattan. Honestly, he'd mostly hung out with his old coworkers from the hospital or Nikki's friends, so it wasn't a real surprise that no one had reached out to him. He should really delete their numbers, he mused. Declutter his life and hopefully bore himself to sleep in the process. Hank opened up his contacts folder only to immediately discover a new name standing out right at the top.

Boris

The man had added himself to Hank's phone contacts and Hank wasn't sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, Boris clearly had major boundary issues; on the other the nobleman had a self-assured confidence Hank couldn't help but find attractive.

His fingers itched.

He could text Boris. No, not text. Call. 

He could call and maybe they could get to know one another better. 

Hank glanced at his brother sleeping in the next bed over. He definitely didn't want Evan to overhear anything. Maybe he and Boris could make plans for the morning? He clicked on the call button.

Ring.

Ring.

Maybe he wouldn't pick up. It was almost midnight. He could be sleeping. Or working. Or maybe he was traveling and not even home?

Ring.

Click.

"Hank." The man's voice was a low purr on the other end of the line.

"I guess you're awake." His voice sounded much huskier than he'd meant it to.

A soft chuckle emanated from the other end of the line. "Not much of a sleeper, I'm afraid. More importantly, I am glad you found my number and felt inclined to use it."

"Yeah, I--" He started, then paused. He really should have thought through what exactly he wanted to say before he dialed.

"Would you like to come over?" The man on the other end of the line offered gallantly. "I assume you would like to talk? Perhaps get to know one another better before you consider my offer?"

"Ah… Yeah. Sure. That would be great. If it's not too late?"

"Never for you, Hank." The man replied, then the line disconnected.

Okay, so Boris was a little eccentric. That made sense. Maybe eccentric was the wrong word; it was more like the man knew exactly what he wanted and would go to great lengths to get it-- but in the pursuit of his goal the nobleman seemed to forget it might affect other people. Putting Hank's phone number out to the community and setting him up as the Hamptons' newest concierge doctor-- should he be inclined to accept the role-- was an incredibly generous gesture, but Hank still would have liked to be consulted before it happened. 

So they would have to talk about that. Sensible boundaries, communication, what Boris expected of him should he decide to stay the summer. Practical, reasonable things.

Hank got out of bed and looked at the small bag he'd packed for the weekend. It felt too late at night for dress pants and a button down, but he also didn't want to wear too little or too casual attire and give Boris the wrong impression about what he wanted from the man that night. He stared at his options before picking up his running shorts and a soft cotton tee. He wasn't exactly planning for his one night stand to become a two night stand-- But he was going into the belly of the beast and at thirty-five he knew himself and his weakness for temptations of the flesh pretty well. He could tell Evan he'd gone out for an early morning run if he didn't make it back that night.

He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his keys.

Drawing up to the main house was very different without the raging party. Shadow Pond glowed magnificently from the end of the long drive like some kind of ethereal castle. Everything was so dark and so still it was almost haunting. Eventually Hank realized he could hear the ocean rumbling against the beach not too far off and he found himself wondering if Boris was a runner. They could run together at dawn or just walk together after dinner if neither was busy.

He liked Boris.

The thing was, as much as he disagreed with the man's methods, he liked the man himself. He'd always been attracted to strong personalities and stronger come-ons. Boris was incredibly intelligent and interesting and Hank genuinely wanted to learn more about the nobleman. How could he not? 

If he were being totally honest with himself-- deep in that secret place where hope sprung eternal inside him-- he wanted it to work out. He wanted to spend the summer… And maybe longer. During his few hours with Boris he'd completely forgotten about Nikki and the rush he felt while he helped Tucker Bryant? It was like nothing he'd ever experienced in the ER. Divya was an intelligent, capable Physician's Assistant. His brother could handle bookkeeping. It was all feasible. He wasn't sure if he was ready for things to work out, but as the manor house loomed closer and closer Hank realized he was actually more bothered by the thought that it might not. Life had been so hard for so long. He'd been ready for a change long before the Gardeners ripped his life apart and while he'd expected marriage to be what shook everything up... Maybe a summertime relocation to paradise with an interesting and intelligent silver fox was just what the doctor ordered.

Hank parked the Saab near the corner of the courtyard. He checked his reflection in the rear view mirror quickly before deciding to just leave his keys in the ignition-- it seemed more likely someone could need to move it than someone might want to steal it. Gravel crunched too loudly under his feet as he got out of the car and walked over to Boris' grand front entryway. Just as he lifted a hand to knock the door swung open before him and there the nobleman was, resplendent in well-tailored grey trousers and a white button down shirt with the sleeves cuffed to his forearms. A paisley tie in grey and lavender was loosened just enough for the man to have the top button of his shirt undone and every question Hank had poised on the tip of his tongue disappeared in a rush of carnal desire.

"Wow." He breathed. 

"Come in." Boris invited, taking a step back and looking quietly pleased at Hank's admiration. "Eventful day?"

Hank raised an eyebrow. "You could say that, yeah."

"I believe I heard a story about a boy with a car? You should tell me about it over a drink." The nobleman suggested loftily.

"What?" It escaped his lips before he could stop it. He'd already explained how sacrosanct patient-doctor confidentiality was. There was no way Boris just forgot, which meant-- "I didn't know I was here for you to test me." Hank replied sharply. 

Boris looked surprised at the censure and Hank wondered how often people called him out when he was in the wrong. Worse, maybe he was surprised Hank was smart enough to realize what he was doing. A long measure of silence stretched between them. Maybe he shouldn't have come back. They'd had a great time the night before, maybe they should have left it at that. He was wrong to have indulged himself with some fantasy about staying for the summer. He should have known better than to hope for--

"I am sorry." The earnest apology cut through his thoughts. "Truly. With my life and situation being what it is-- I have some… ingrained habits that are less than desirable."

Boris looked genuinely remorseful and Hank felt the simmering anger in his chest cool slightly. Wasn't he there to question Boris? Why should he be the only one allowed to be suspicious of their potential arrangement? For a second he felt like a hypocrite until the crux of the issue struck him.

"I get that. I don't like it, but I get it." He conceded. "The thing is-- I'm a straight forward guy. I don't want to worry about doublespeak or manipulation with someone I'm in any type of relationship with, let alone someone I'm sleeping with. I don't see how I can live on your property if I'm looking for ulterior motives every time we talk."

Boris smoothed out his perfectly pressed tie as he seemed to consider his next words. The man pursed his lips slightly as he took in a small breath of air and suddenly Hank just knew: Boris had a secret. While that wasn't strange-- Who didn't have things they kept to themself?-- it almost seemed like the nobleman wanted to tell him about it and couldn't for some reason. What could an enigmatic billionaire possibly share with him that he couldn't talk about otherwise? Hank looked closer at the man's expression and finally recognized it. 

Boris needed him as more than a hookup or a romantic interest or even a friend. 

The man needed him as a doctor. 

"I think you are the person I have been searching for." The nobleman finally responded. "Please, come in."

The way Boris was talking-- he was very, very ill. Something was wrong, Hank could feel it in his bones. He had a hundred new questions and getting laid was suddenly the last thing on his mind as he walked through the door. 

"Boris." He said softly, looking around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "You're sick, aren't you?"

The look Boris gave him was one he was even more familiar with. He'd seen it for the first time on his mother's face when Eddie left after her diagnosis. He'd seen it a thousand more times since during medical school and residency and his career. Those vivid cerulean eyes looked furious and hopeless-- and terrified. He was right. Damn it, he wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have completely misjudged the situation.

"Not here." The man intoned. "Follow me. Please."

Hank nodded as Boris turned quickly and ascended the entryway stairs. He followed the nobleman along a wide corridor flanked by massive glass doors on both sides that reminded him of learning about Versailles in highschool, then out onto a terrace lit by footlights. Still Boris kept walking, down more steps onto the expansive rear lawns before finally making a sharp right towards an unlit pond with a stone bench before it. It looked like there was some kind of statuette between the bench and the pond, but Hank couldn't really tell what it was and couldn't bring himself to care, all things considered. 

He wanted to know about Boris' health. Practicing medicine for him was how he assumed other people felt getting high. The rush never waned in its intensity; it was like rafting down a river rapid as he worked to come up with the correct diagnosis and the best course of treatment. There were no guaranteed right answers in medicine and innovation was king and he thrived like that. It was his element and what he'd been born to do. He didn't want Boris to be sick, but since the man was--He'd save him. There had to be a way and they could find it together.

Finally Boris stopped by the bench and just stood there, facing the pond. 

"This is where I come to consider my... missteps. Things I shouldn't have said, things I shouldn't have done. So, Hank, how did you come to know about my illness?" He finally asked, his voice soft in volume but strong in every other way.

"It was your expression back in the doorway. Sometimes we would get patients in the ER with problems it looked like we could fix-- but then they'd give us that look and tell us they were terminal. A patient would have seizures and then tell us it was a glioma. A person with an arrhythmia would have late-stage congestive heart failure. That was how you looked when you smoothed your tie."

A bitter, wry grin spread itself across Boris' face. "My father died in a skiing accident when he was forty-three. My grandfather died in a plane crash at forty-four."

Hank let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "This thing you have-- it's genetic."

"Yes. And quite fatal." Boris answered blandly as he continued to stare out at the pond. 

"How old are you?" He questioned gently.

"I turn forty-four in a few weeks. I've been to every specialist in the free world-- and a few in parts of the world that are not so free. There is no treatment, they can't even make a diagnosis." Boris' voice was on the knife's edge between restraint and despair. Hank was familiar with that tone, too. "Now that you know, I have an amended proposition for you." 

"And what would that be?" Hank asked suspiciously.

"We give Evan R Lawson use of the guesthouse for his personal residency and for your practice while you stay with me here." The man could have been suggesting they rent a movie for how casually he suggested it in that smooth, captivating bedroom voice of his.

"You can't be serious. We've known each other for less than two days." 

Boris shook his head, silver hair glinting in the moonlight. "You know more about me than almost anyone alive-- Agree to be my companion. Stay with me, monitor my…" He paused briefly. "Challenges. Remain by my side through my decline. Make the call when my mind fails me. I do not want to be alone at the end, Hank."

"You want me to spend the rest of your life with you?" His mouth felt suddenly dry. Not in a bad way, just-- Wow.

"Yes." Boris answered simply.

It didn't make sense. Why him? Was it because he was a doctor? Because of the sex? Or was it possible Boris just saw something in him that no one else ever had? It was a big, crazy, ridiculous idea-- who moved in with someone after knowing them for thirty hours?-- but Hank couldn't stop thinking that for the first time, someone saw forever with him. How was he supposed to be reasonable and say it was too soon when the man was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered? But then-- what if he agreed and let himself fall in love only to watch that look fade from Boris' expression as the man got to know him better?

"How do you even know if you'll like me after the novelty wears off?" Hank asked slowly. "I could be boring. I work all the time."

"As do I." The man dismissed. "This is not something I am entering into lightly; my decision was not made in haste or desperation. I truly do believe we are supremely well-suited to one another. I have never asked another person to stay by my side. You are everything I want and I suspect even more of what I need. I have plans for you, Hank. Say yes-- Accept the life I'm offering. Let us enjoy the time before us, however long that is." 

Hank moved to sit down on the bench. Boris was a lot, but he'd known that coming into the night. He just hadn't expected such an over the top offer. Pros and cons ran through his mind faster than he could consider them. 

They could fall in love.

According to Boris, the man didn't have much time left.

They could be jumping the shark. What if they were fundamentally incompatible?

What if the last twenty years of failed romances had been a slow and painful build up to finally meet the person he was supposed to love and cherish for the rest of his life?

What if they were meant to be? 

Boris didn't have much time left.

"I'm assuming you've had a full background check done on me by now." He waited for Boris' perfunctory nod. "Then you also know that my fiancée just left me and that my life is a mess. I don't know if I can jump into guaranteed heartbreak right now--and that's how this is going to end, one way or the other. Either you become another person who changes their mind about spending their life with me or we're happy together but then you get sick and I lose you anyway. I'm not sure I can ignore those concerns."

"Ah, very well. I understand." The man responded respectfully, but the pleased upturn of his lips at the edges made it perfectly clear he knew he'd be getting what he wanted sooner rather than later. "As long as you are amenable to the possibility at some point. I assume that is the case, since the possibility of you leaving me was not mentioned."

It was a tidy and reasonable solution that should have been perfect, but it just didn't sit right. It didn't feel authentic. It wasn't actually what he wanted. The thought of what could be with Boris was intoxicating. All he had to do was trust the man beside him. He'd never been one to hold back when it came to his relationships and suddenly Hank had an idea. 

"What if we were to make a deal?" He asked as Boris moved to sit beside him on the stone bench.

The man leaned in closer, curiosity piqued, his cologne and nearness teasing. "And what would that be?" 

"What if there was a third option? What if we do our best to take death off the table? I will move in here with you now… If you continue to seek medical help for your condition." Hank sat up a little straighter. "Maybe you can accept that you're going to die, but I can't. I need to try to help at the very least. Let me be your medical quarterback. You've talked to all these specialists, but have they talked to one another? I can't be your doctor, obviously, but I can help facilitate an open exchange of medical records and create a cohesive team that could help find you treatment-- or maybe even a cure."

For a moment Boris pulled back and looked pensive; then as quick as it came it was gone, leaving nothing but his usual determined expression in its wake.

"You drive quite the bargain. Very well, in return I have one condition for you: I won't be sold a false bill of hope. I do not want a single person on the team saying they might be able to save my life. If you can guarantee that-- then I accept your proposition. You may have me poked and prodded and tested to your heart's desire. If it suits you, tomorrow we can take my car into Brooklyn in order to collect the contents of your old apartment. I also keep some documents in Manhattan you might be interested in perusing that pertain to my family's history with the disease." He gave Hank that omnipotent smirk that suggested he once again knew something Hank did not and it was greatly amusing to him. 

"I can accommodate that." Hank promised with a grin. 

"Then welcome to the team, Doctor Quarterback." 

Epilogue:

"This is my partner, Doctor Hank Lawson." Boris introduced.

"You are romantically involved?" The geneticist asked, sounding a little surprised. She glanced to Hank. "I assumed you were only his doctor."

"Ah. While I am a doctor, I'm actually not his doctor. I just coordinate his care. Ethics--I can't be involved with a patient." He answered with a polite smile and shrug.

"Ethics are important, but he can be very persuasive. Isn't that right, Boris?" Dr Casseras looked back to the nobleman, who tilted his head slightly but didn't respond. As a polite knock came from the door, Hank found himself with a sneaking suspicion. "Excuse me for a moment."

Hank leaned closer to Boris, his voice a quiet hiss as Marisa talked with the nurse in the doorway. "Tell me you did not sleep with your geneticist."

"Not recently." The man murmured as he glanced towards a picture on Dr Casseras' desk. Hank followed his gaze until it fell upon a photograph of Boris and Marisa cutting a ribbon at the facility's opening ceremony.

"Oh, God. Tell me you are not paying for this facility." Hank asked. "Because if you are paying for this facility and you've slept with the lead researcher, you absolutely can not go through with this clinical trial."

Boris had the audacity to look pleased. "I suppose we'll have to cancel the testing and take a little vacation; I know of a wonderful place for mojitos. Go see the roses at St Cristobal Square, perhaps?"

"You did this on purpose." Hank whispered. "Why?"

"Tell me, is it wrong to want to share a leisure trip with one's beloved? I hardly expected to meet you when I began to fund this facility five years ago." The nobleman asked innocently. "We'll simply have to travel to Denmark after this and look into their clinical trial instead. You said it looked very promising."

Hank shook his head, barely holding back a smile.

He took Boris' hand in his.

"You should have mentioned you're a difficult patient."

The nobleman brought their entwined fingers to his lips. 

"I suppose it's a good thing I took you as my lover instead of my doctor, then." Boris murmured.

Hank couldn't help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, lost my six month streak by one day! This was supposed to go up like a month ago but I got sick (not Covid!) then I planned on a post-a-thon when I did my 100 mile ultramarathon but just couldn't focus enough to actually do it. I did finish the race, though! 29 hours and 56 minutes of consecutive running/shuffling/hobbling. Woof.
> 
> I don't actually know what's going to be posted next--I guess I'll surprise us all! Haha. How is everyone doing? We're heading into fall and winter and election season in the US--Let's all get through this together!


End file.
